


Baltimore Nine-Nine

by holmescestious, until_the_earth_is_free



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Brooklyn Nine Nine, Crossover, Fluff, Light-Hearted, Love/Hate, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Sexual Tension, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 21:21:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2203491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holmescestious/pseuds/holmescestious, https://archiveofourown.org/users/until_the_earth_is_free/pseuds/until_the_earth_is_free
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Will are the new captain and and sergeant duo of the Baltimore Nine Nine gang, starring Brian Zeller as Jake Perolta, during which situational comedy, sexual tension and puns ensue.</p><p>[disclaimer: it is not necessary to have watched or even heard of Brooklyn Nine Nine in order to understand this fic]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baltimore Nine-Nine

**Author's Note:**

> [For the Hannibal Summer of Rare Pairs~~~](hannibal-summer-rare-pairs.tumblr.com)

 

 

 

 

 

 

The 99th precinct was a busy police station in the south side of Baltimore. Only Maryland's finest detectives were assigned to work among the chosen few, conducting serious business in an effort to complete the never ending wave of cases thrust upon them by the common public.

"No but seriously, guys," Zee said, raising his arms with his usual, cocky, commanding demeanour. "I actually agree with Jimmy. If- no, when deciding upon whom in this precinct to bestow the honour of becoming Robo-cop, the government would definitely give the robo-armour to him."

"Finally, thank you!" replied Jimmy, raising his eyebrows in pride to the rest of the policemen in the room.

"Because they would know that I'd still be able to kick ass without being made into a killing machine," Zeller finished with a grin. "You'd need a suit. I was born this awesome."

Rosa rolled her eyes and Zee wondered, not for the first time, whether her eyes had ever gotten stuck from excessive scorn.

"Hey, Zee, just a heads up," Beverly Katz spoke as she strode into the room, balanced and calm, even with full coffees in each hand. "The new captain and his sergeant are arriving today so you might want to act like you're pretending to try to work."

Zeller did not relinquish his seat on top of his desk.

"I thought they were coming in Monday," he said instead. "Wait. Is it Monday?"

"Still Friday, you dork," said Rosa, grabbing one of the steaming cups from her friend and taking an inhumanly large gulp for such a hot drink.

"They want to come in today to get a feel of the place before they start properly," drawled Gina from the other side of the room, her shoeless feet resting on her desk.

"Wait, have you met them yet?" Zeller asked her, curious despite himself.

"Maybe I have," Gina replied, speech purposefully slow in a conscious effort to wind him up.

Zee puzzled this, while watching the entertaining expressions on Chilton's face as he grimaced at Gina's bare feet so close to his work.

"All I know is that both of them know each other from previous work," Beverly said, now sitting down at her desk and switching on her computer.

"Well, they can't be much worse than the last ones," Jimmy reasoned.

"Oh, I bet they will be," Zee replied airily. "If the captain is bringing in someone he knows, the sergeant must be a real kiss-ass."

Rosa snorted.

"Mark my words," Zeller announced, dramatically standing up now. "The captain'll be some retiree who's trying to still make a difference and the sergeant will be some upshot who thinks that he can become the captain when this one retires for good if he just sucks up enough and-"

"Excuse me," spoke a firm but quiet voice from behind Zeller. "Is this where Baltimore's 99th Precinct detectives work?"

Zeller gave his best winning smile before turning around to see the source of the voice.

"You bet! How can we assist you?"

"My name is Will Graham," the man replied, his wide bright eyes staring resolutely at the wall over Zeller's shoulder. "Can you tell me where the captain's office is? I'm your new sergeant."

~O~

"He seems so awkward," Gina mused, staring through the windows of the captain's office where their new sergeant was opening drawers and scanning the bookshelves. "Like a sexy, rugged kind of awkward. Like a sexy, rugged, slightly nerdy, but secretly very kinky-"

"Gina, shut up," Zeller interrupted, leaning over his blank paperwork intently, every so often raising his eyes to look curiously at Will Graham who was now going to be in charge of the precinct. "This mess is awkward enough without your creepy commentary."

"Oh no," Chilton murmured sarcastically. "Please, keep going, Gina. Tell us your every intimate thought."

Zeller and Jimmy both simultaneously grimaced at the prospect of those two having another sarcastic flirting match so soon before lunch, when someone else entered the room.

"Can we help you?" asked Zeller brightly, as the tall stocky man strode immediately across the room and into the captain's office, before shutting the door.

"Not very chatty, is he?" Jimmy commented.

"I like him," Rosa declared with a rare, frankly terrifying, smile.

~O~

The new captain introduced himself a few minutes later as Jack Crawford. He gave the impression to be a no-nonsense, experienced officer with the capability of psychologically ruining anyone who screwed around. However, since Zee had already screwed up with the sergeant, he thought he'd make a good first impression with the captain.

It seemed that Jack Crawford did not appreciate fist bumps or "whooping" at the end of introductory speeches.

It also seemed that the captain either really respected Graham or was just whipped as hell because after almost every sentence he would glance over to his sergeant, as if requesting acknowledgement that he was making his speech correctly, to which Will would blink and still refuse eye contact with anyone else in the precinct.

God, if he was going to be working with them for a while, he might as well be polite about it.

Jimmy and Beverly seemed to be of the same opinion as the three of them took a car down to investigate a crime scene, although Beverly seemed more eager to give Will a chance before they labelled him off as "another Chilton situation".

"We should probably have a real conversation with him before dismissing him completely," she argued.

"Uh, Bev, I don't think this guy has ever had a real conversation in his life," Zee replied. "Have you even looked at him?"

"He also acts like he's higher up than the captain," Jimmy offered. "Insubordination and all that."

"Yeah, well, that's because he's a prick."

"Zee!" Beverly admonished.

Zeller rolled his eyes, gesturing to the dead body they were all gathered around. "Oh, I'm sorry Bev, I forgot that dead people gave a shit about my language."

Jimmy sighed, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves to collect more particulates from around the body. "Dead people don't. But let's just get John Doe over here to the morgue before Crawford has our ass. He doesn't look like someone you want to piss off so soon, Zee. The guy looks like he's just waiting for an opportunity to tear you a new one."

Zeller rolled his eyes, zipping up the body bag the corpse was currently residing in on the floor. "This case is stupid anyway. We didn't even need three people here. It's an overdose. Boom. Solved it."

Bev and Jimmy both rolled their eyes at his childishness, ignoring his outburst in favor of packing up their equipment.

Jimmy lightly smacked him upside the head. "We've established it's a homicide already Zee, stop trying to get out of working the case."

~O~

Price paced around the body as he waited for the test results.

“Okay, so someone injected him full of heroin _after_ they strangled him. But _why_?”

“To waste a ton of fucking money.” Zeller joked through his mouth full of bagel, successfully spraying Price with misplaced debris. “To cover up the murder, why else?”

Price nodded, making a point of wiping the crumbs from his face. “Say it, don’t spray it.” Price changed his gloves, the latex snapping loudly in the near empty room.

“They probably assumed some half assed dimwit would take the case and never look past the heroin.” He said, taking another bite of his bagel. “The new bagel place is good. We should go back.”

Price rubbed his temples, sighing. “No Zee, we can’t do that.” He reached into the cabinet, getting empty tubes from the shelf. “That bagel place is a _crime scene_ , remember? You took those bagels while we were shutting the place down.”

Brian rolled his eyes, hoping down off the counter he was perched on. “Well I should have taken the recipe while I was at it. But case solved, yeah? Strangulation, covered up with a large injection of heroin. Case solved. I’ll let Captain Hardass know.”

“You’re wrong.” Will Graham’s voice grated on Brian, his normal bright smile twitching as it fought to stay on his face.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. What the hell do you mean, ‘you’re wrong’. You didn’t even read the biopsy, how do you know what happened? Besides, my theory was totally sound.” Zeller crossed his arms, defensive about his deduction and not happy to have it questioned by what he still considered an outsider.

“It wasn’t to cover up the murder,” Graham responded with a small tilt of his head, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. Zeller wanted to punch that look off his face.

“Yeah, then what was it for?” Brian was impatient to get out of there to say the least.

Will reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bottle of pills. He swallowed two dry before responding. “The heroin was on purpose. This was gang work. He’s a message.”

Graham stared at the body, his eyes distant. “This man was a message. He was an example.”

Brian scoffed. “Unlikely. There wasn’t any calling card. No gang tattoos, the guy didn’t have a record. Nothing. It was probably a crime of opportunity. One of those spur of the moment, passion things.” He waved a dismiss hand, unwilling to accept any theories from a rude outsider who didn’t even _make the effort_ to be social or anything.

“This was not a crime of passion.” Will’s voice raised minutely on the word ‘passion’. It was barely anything, but from the soft spoken Will Graham, he might as well have shouted it to the two other room occupants. “This was planned. It was methodical, placed so we would find it. It’s gang related. Probably mafia.”

With that, he left as silently as he came. Zeller scoffed, leaning back against the counter. “Probably mafia.” He mimicked, his voice high and childish.

“Zee. I got something.” Price looked towards Zeller, eyes wide.

“What?” Brian demanded, walking over to where Jimmy stood.

“There are initials carved into his tongue. It was done post-mortem so there wasn’t bleeding to indicate this without, well,” He gestured to the flashlight and dental mirror he had shoved in the victim’s throat. “And look here, his vocal cords, they’re damaged…” He gulped, stepping back to the sink on the counter and away from the body, “ _surgically_.”

“Fuck.” Brian cursed, pulling out his cell phone. He hit speed dial three and put the phone to his ear. “Hey Bev. I’m sending you a picture, I need you to check out a gang sign for me. Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

He snapped a picture of the image in the mirror, sending it off to Katz.

“I’m gonna go find Sergeant know-it-all and let him know.”

With that Zeller left Jimmy to his work, dragging his feet to find Graham, he wanted to delay this as long as possible.

~O~

Brian sighed when he saw Graham searching through a trunk in the bunk room.

“Hey. Graham,” he started.

“I was right. I know.”

Graham tossed Zeller a shirt. Well, a ‘shirt’- the small piece of fabric could barely be called that. He didn’t know what was worse, holding an unknown woman’s shirt, or Graham being an asshat about this, just like he knew he would.

“It’s not a woman’s shirt,” Graham said absently, searching through the trunk. Brian hated how he did that. “Try it on. We’re going undercover. Gay bar. Lower Manhattan.”

He put up a silencing hand at Brian’s protest.

“I already had this argument. Jack wants you on it and thinks you need a babysitter. I’ve been _assigned_.” He said the word like it was poison on his lips.

Zeller held up the mesh crop top in his hands. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. I am not wearing this shit. No way.”

Will sighed, laying out his own outfit. “Then put in your resignation.” He replied absently, barely paying attention to the other man in the room.

~O~

After a loud conversation with one Jack Crawford, Brian Zeller was now leaving the police station in a crop top.

He heard Beverly wolf whistle from her desk.

He was not amused.

He slammed the door of the car as he got in, crossing his arms in a huff. Will flinched minutely at the sound and the mild shake of the car that resulted.

He looked over the driver, the long coat covering any clothing underneath. All Brian could make out was the calves of dark jeans from the bottom of the coat. He glared at Will as they pulled away from the curb, anger fuelled by the look of calm that had settled over Will.

“Why the hell am I sitting here dressed in this ridiculous fucking outfit while you’re wearing that?”

Will glanced at him briefly in the mirror, eyes quickly flicking back to the road when Brian met them. He didn’t answer, driving toward the bar. They sat in relative silence, the only sound being the soft drone of the radio.

He turned off the lights, slowly pulling up along a curb.

“It’s because I’m not a field agent. I’m just here to _oversee_ this mission.”

He said the words as if he was repeating something, most likely from Jack’s speech that got him there in the first place. He turned to Zeller. making brief eye contact.

“I trust that you’ll take care of it.”

He turned back to the road, watching the bustling club from the road.

They watched the procession of people quietly, small talk not an option when the only thing they knew about the suspect was a tattoo. Zee had to remind himself several times that it wasn’t just a tattoo- it was a tattoo that was carved into another guy’s throat.

~0~

“There!” Will shocked Brian out his stupor, pointing to a man walking in the club.

“What?” Brian searched for the man Will had pointed out.

“There.” Will pointed. “That man. The tattoo is on that man’s ankle.”

“Got him.”

Brian swung open the door, making a beeline for the man. He stopped about ten feet short of him. What the hell was he supposed to do now. He stood there, dumbstruck, watching him disappear into the club. Shit.

He scrambled to catch the bundle of fabric that was tossed at him, his field of vision blocked by the most perfect ass he had ever seen. He followed the slim line of the man’s body, up his tight black jeans hanging low on his hips, up to the ripped shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder. He followed the man’s neck- fuck Brian wanted to leave teeth marks on it, to his tastefully tousled curls. The man was no hanging off his target.

Shit.

The target.

He walked closer, putting on his most charming smile, intent on getting the stranger away from him and into safety.

The stranger was Will Graham. That was Will Graham hanging all over the suspect.

Smiling.

And laughing.

Oh _God_ he was _flirting_.

It occurred to him very suddenly that he was holding Will’s coat. The realization came to him as suddenly as the suspect going down lack a sack of bricks. Will had knocked him out. Had knocked him out while _giggling_.

Will kneeled over him, handcuffing the perp's wrists together, which filled Brian’s head with the image of Will kneeling over something else.

Will looked up at Brian, his eyes still wide from his acting stint. If Brian didn’t know any better- which he _did_ \- Will would have been someone he would consider picking up at a bar.

But he did know Will better. And he knew that Will was an awkward, antisocial, rude asshole who couldn’t take a joke.

And that somehow didn’t make the image less hot.

Will grunted as he stood, trying to pull the now unconscious man with him. “Want to help me out?” He looked to Brian, who quickly scrambled to help him put the man in the car.

~0~

They drove back to the station, back in silence, and after dragging the man to a holding cell to be read his Miranda rights once conscious, they headed to the bunk room to get changed.

Brian headed toward his own bag, eager to change. He turned just in time to see Will take off his shirt. His eyes trailed over the long crescent scar that stood out against Will’s pale skin and watched the stomach muscles tighten as they went rigid under the attention.

Brian quickly looked away, realizing his mistake.

“So. How’d you get those scars?” He pulled his best Joker impression, eyebrows raising in a joking manner in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Will’s smile curled into a hint of a smile as he buttoned up his plaid shirt. “What? Didn’t look me up on the internet, _Zee_?”

Brian swallowed, watching his skin disappear behind the fabric. His nickname sounded so much different coming from Will. It was seductive. It would have given him shivers if those lips were pressed to his ear when it was said.

After a belated moment, he realized that Will was doing it on purpose. Will knew what he was doing to him.

The sick fuck.

“Not yet. But I’ll do it in the morning if you want.” Brian said, changing his own shirt.

Will laughed. Actually laughed.

“No, it’s fine.”

He sat back on the bunk nearest to the door. It was the farthest away, safe and close to the only escape route.

“It was from my last… perp. He tried to gut me when I went to call for backup. I got too close and I didn’t see it coming.”

He tried to keep the details to a minimum, not wanting to over involve the other man in his past.

Brian nodded, pulling on a fresh pair of pants. “Well, you pushed through it.”

“Yeah.” Will’s eyes were trained on the upper corner of the room. “ _I_ did.”

“Who was it anyway?” Brian asked, grabbing his coat.

“Hannibal.” Will muttered. He turned to glance at Zeller, mirth playing in all of his features. It seemed manic on him, joyless and hopeless. “Hannibal the cannibal.”

~O~

“Holy shit,” Beverly muttered, clicking on the first link of her google search of “Hannibal the Cannibal”. “This is some hardcore horror movie material.”

Jimmy leaned over, squinting at the screen, which displayed a garishly red background with the title “Tattle-Crime!!!” and a lengthy and gruesome article all about the Baltimore serial killer.

“Woah, he fed his victims to FBI agents?” Jimmy exclaimed, looking up at Zee. “Do you think Jack has eaten people?”

“Will was an FBI agent too,” Zee replied, staring at the screen. “They probably both did.”

“Actually, it says that Will wasn’t an actual agent. He was just consulting,” Rosa corrected.

“Do you think we can ask them what human meat tastes like?” asked Jimmy. “I’ve read it tastes quite similar to pork.”

“What the fuck kind of books do you read?” Rosa demanded. “And can I borrow one?”

“I wonder why Jack left the FBI,” Beverly mused. “He had a great career. Why would he come here?”

“Excuse you,” Jimmy replied. “We are a fucking delight to order around.”

“Maybe he felt bad that he ruined Will’s life,” Rosa said.

“What do you mean?” Zee asked.

“He couldn’t catch a guy who was right under his nose. The cannibal fucked Will up. That fucked Jack up. They came here to live out the rest of their years in shame. Simple.”

“Wait, shut up, guys, there’s a picture of Will in here,” Beverly said, scrolling down, revealing a photograph of an unconscious and barely-clothed Will Graham lying on a hospital bed, his scar bright red and grisly against his stomach. It was surprisingly high-quality, so Bev enlarged the photo until it was practically full-screen.

“I don’t want to be the first to say it but...” Jimmy said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“He’s actually really fit,” Beverly finished, while Jimmy looked around the room to make sure Will and Jack were still in the Captain’s office.

“I can understand his merits,” Rosa said stiffly, but her gaze was intensely focussed on the screen.

Zee rolled his eyes.

“Turn that thing off, why don’t you,” he said in exasperation.

“Jealous?” Beverly teased.

“Who wouldn’t be jealous of those arms though?” Jimmy mused.

“No, I mean, it looks like Jack and Will’s meeting has just ended.”

Not for the first time, the detectives thanked God for Beverly’s quick reaction time and technological proficiency.

~O~

The bar on the corner of Adams Street and Chapel was an absolute staple in the neighbourhood and the typical locale of choice for police detectives out to celebrate the closure of a long or hard case. The last captain and sergeant duo would have never laid themselves so low as to go drinking with their team and Zeller was almost hoping that Crawford and Graham were going to follow the same course of action.

However, his hope was dashed to pieces when he saw Jack Crawford, an overcoat folded over his elbow, with an expectant expression,

"so, who's buying?"

This was how Brian Zeller found himself cramped on a booth seat next to Sergeant Graham on a Friday night, trapped in a gaggle of tipsy colleagues. Rolling his eyes at Gina with her glass of bright pink cocktail and Chilton with his glass of brighter pinker cocktail, he tried to join Jimmy and Beverly's conversation, which consisted of them placing bets on if and when Gina and Chilton were going to have a smarmy fling that night. This proved to be difficult, in a noisy bar and having to talk over the heads of both Jack and Rosa, who appeared to be in a mutual understanding of strong alcohol and silence. In a moment of uncharacteristic forfeit against the world (it had been a very tough week after all), Zeller decided not to speak.

With no speech to fill the void of inactivity, he drank.

It was two hours and several beers later when both Jack and Rosa had had enough and said a monosyllabic goodbye before leaving, not even a slight tilt in their step. In their absence, Beverly and Jimmy were too out of it to have the sense to stay where they were and not to move along, meaning Zee was still squashed up next to the sergeant, who, if his almost alarming alcohol intake meant anything, did not appreciate the intimate arrangement either. It was very hot in the corner but Zee didn't have anywhere to move or any layers to acceptably remove.

Usually, taking down a perp undercover in a gay club brings two people closer together. However, this seemed to be an exception.

Zee was only vaguely aware of how close Graham's shoulder was to his face when he looked up, suddenly, to see that both Beverly and Jimmy had departed and there were a great many more empty glasses on the table than he last recalled. Although, perhaps his memory was not the most reliable source of information at the moment.

"Where's everyone gone?" Zee asked, shifting along the booth to at least attempt at respecting Graham's personal space.

"Home," Will replied shortly, running his finger along the rim of his beer mug. "But not before they snapped a picture of you drooling on my shoulder. I expect it will be on facebook within the hour."

Zeller could almost hear the blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Well," he said, his alcohol-addled mind grasping for a polite way to say he wanted to leave. "I guess I should be leaving too."

"Actually, I think you should probably stay seated for at least the next 15 minutes," Will instructed, his speech barely slurred. "Head rushes and all that. I don't want you vomiting anywhere."

"I appreciate the concern," Zeller replied, as haughtily as he could when his mouth felt heavy and floppy and uncomfortable no matter where he placed it in his mouth. "I don't need you coddling me."

"Coddling" was a very difficult word to say.

"Well, I thought you were the one passing out on my shoulder but I guess I was mistaken."

Zeller was not in the mood to get into a drunken argument with his superior past midnight in a bar, so he moved to get up. However, his legs appeared to have other intentions and, shuddering, he sat back down.

He glanced at Will, who was genuinely smirking at Zee's effort with perhaps the first indication that he even had a real sense of humour that Zeller had seen.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!"

"I could hear you laughing at me in your mind."

Will actually laughed then and it was a downright surreal experience, as if Zee was watching a dubbed version of Will and someone else's high-pitched chuckle was being edited over him.

"You are almost a walking parody, Brian Zeller," Will said, at which point Zeller truly learnt the meaning of the word "surreal" because Will Graham decided to kiss him.

It was an astonishingly good kiss, considering the fact that both men were pretty drunk and desperately tired. Will was really a very good kisser, which was also astonishing because the rest of his social skill set was so rusty, but also extraordinarily irritating to Zee, who, not that he had given the matter _any_ deliberation, would have expected to be the more experienced one and now was being given a run for his money. In his inebriated and rather shocked state of mind, he refused to let this undeniably gorgeous but still annoying as fuck officer best him at anything, and so kissed back with an aggressive passion, utilising every trick he'd learned in his college fraternity days, to great effect.

He couldn't let Graham win.

~O~

Zee was brought up from a young age to conceal feelings and controversy under a veil of sarcasm and passive aggression- one of the few skills we was willing to accredit to his family. If one denies everything, one can get away with a great many misdeeds.

On Monday morning, fully recovered and not even slightly able to pretend his bad mood was at the fault of his hangover, Brian Zeller swaggered into the station with the full intention of pretending nothing had ever happened. Ever so subtly glancing at Sergeant Graham's desk, he noticed that his colleague had not arrived yet, meaning he only had a minute and a half to come before he was late. Zee smirked at his watch, and got to work.

It wasn’t that it hadn’t been a great kiss, because it had. It wasn’t even that he was worried about the fact that “Hannibal the Cannibal” was apparently still on the loose, or that the tattle-crime article had framed Will as “mentally disturbed and potentially dangerous”.

He was just mad that someone had the ability to get so deeply under his skin that he couldn’t even concentrate on anything else.

It was quarter past nine when Graham finally arrived, to which Crawford made no comment, at which Zeller let out a passive aggressive huff.

It seemed that Will was taking the same route of "refusing to admit anything had happened", and did not even blink or take his eyes off his computer screen when Beverly and Jimmy were showing their photo of Zee's Friday naptime to anyone in the office who hadn't yet seen it and to anyone who was willing to see it again.

It was rude that Will would be so standoffish, considering he was the one to have initiated the incident. Zee had a list of snarky replies to all possible apologies, excuses and even accusations, but nothing against this distant silence and it was making him edgy.

It was just after lunch, during Jack's unexpectedly long meeting in the conference room, that Zeller decided that he had had enough of this ridiculous charade the sergeant was trying to play with him.

After every impressive case, the team had a tendency to slack on their paperwork and general professionalism. The meeting was more of a lecture by Crawford in the hopes that he would be able to scare them better than his predecessor, which, although accurate, was optimistic in Zeller's opinion. Zee's foul mood, plus the fact that Crawford didn't trust the team to run smoothly on their own, and the fact that Will hadn't even looked his way in the entire four hours they had been in the same room together, provoked Zee into action.

After the meeting, Brian took longer than necessary to shuffle his papers into order and to stand up, huffing and keeping his eye on Will, who was refusing eye contact as always and was murmuring something to the captain quietly. It was very easy for him to place himself strategically by the door and stand idly without Graham making notice.

However, when Will turned around, he just sighed and walked towards the door, as if he already knew Zee's plan and was already sick of it. With a winning smile, Zeller swore that he would keep it professional and would not punch this guy no matter what his fantasies had taken hold of his mind. Will stood expectantly in the door frame, his fingers flexing and fiddling with the gun holster on his belt, like they were trying to grasp at the nearest solid object.

Zee hated being the first one to talk in negotiations. It showed weakness. But he hated awkward silences more.

"Well, Will," he said, slowly, trying to provoke Graham into replying with impatience. No such luck. "I think you owe me an explanation for Friday."

Will blinked but otherwise gave no indication that he was even still paying attention to reality.

"I think the mature thing to do would be to talk about this outside of the workplace," Zeller continued, emphasising the word "mature".

That seemed to elicit something from Will.

"Why?" he asked, feigning ignorance like the frustrating man that he was and subtly licking his lips.

"I just want to make sure nothing like this ever happens again," Zee said, keeping his tongue behind his teeth and trying not to stare at that damn mouth or think about-

"Fine," Will replied, leaning back against the door frame. "Where do you want to do this, my place or yours?"

Zee considered this. A more private setting would yield far too many implications that he really did not want to think about right now in the middle of a workday, but a public place might bring forth unwanted spectators. However, since Zee was, above all, a good sport, he decided on a cafe a little way from the 99 in order to give neither man a home turf advantage.

They agreed on a time that was neither too dauntingly soon nor too close to the weekend, when there would be more people around, and Zee walked back to his desk, feeling rather thoughtful. It wasn't that that he wasn't pleased about the result of his confrontation. He just needed some time to calm his heavily beating heart and to gather his resources for that Thursday, during which he would need all of his concentration to resolve their issue.

Brian Zeller was not a bitter person but, given the opportunity for competition, he was in it to win it.

~O~

The cafe that Zee had chosen sat nestled between a small but successful newsagents and a pretentious movie theatre, hidden amongst the young hipster side of town, far from anyone either of them might know. It was not a big chain coffee shop and it did not take long for Zee to understand the ordering system and sit down at a booth in the corner.

Although they were meeting after work, it was an unspoken agreement that they would make their own ways and arrive separately, although whether it was because they hated each other enough to not be able to bear a twenty-minute walk together or because their colleagues were far too invested in their lives was unclear to Zee.

When Will came, only a minute later, he raised an anxious eyebrow at Zeller in acknowledgement, before ordering a latte and sitting down at the small circular table. Once seated, the sergeant immediately proceeded to scoop four shaky spoons of sugar into his already pale coffee.

Zee quirked a small smile at this surly ex-federal agent with a habitual silent glare who couldn't even take his coffee properly. Something about the childish way Will spilled some of his drink while attempting to coherently stir its contents made Zee want to speak first.

"I think you know why I wanted to talk to you."

It was always shrewd to make the opposition start the negotiations.

However, Will seemed to be the expert on forcing other people into talking.

"I was thinking about what happened on Friday," Zee said, his heart thumping with impatience. “It can’t happen again.”

"I was drunk-" Will started.

"So was I!"

Will flushed, his eyes narrow.

"Are you accusing me of something?"

Zee put his hands up defensively.

"I honestly don't know what to think."

"Listen," Will said, his tone growing less aggressive and more weary. "I'm sorry. I must have misread the situation at hand. I made a mistake."

"Damn straight," Zee muttered, but he still didn't feel satisfied with the apology.

There was a tense silence, until-

"You kissed back," Will said, staring at his coffee.

It wasn't an accusation, or even a defence, but a simple and true statement.

"I was drunk," Zee said, and the words felt like flimsy, tasteless wafers on his tongue.

Will cracked a smile and took a sip from his mug.

"You are a prick,” he said, thoughtfully, licking the cream off his lips.

"Shut up, you're the prick," Zee said, wrinkling his nose.

It was strange, but he sort of thought they had reached an agreement. A mutual and understood hatred.

Will stared at Zeller for a second, as if considering his next move, before getting up with the intention of leaving.

"Wait!" Brian exclaimed.

Graham stopped and looked at him blankly.

"Will, I think I owe you an apology."

Will blinked slowly at his coffee.

Zee had been considering saying this for a while. While he would never admit it to Beverly, Brian wasn't entirely incapable of observing when he'd been too much of an ass.

"You don't owe me anything," Will replied, wiping down the sides of his mug with a napkin.

"I've been nothing but rude to you since you arrived," Zee said, and it wasn't a confession but a piece of truth.

"I think we're both guilty of that," Graham said, staring at his coffee, glasses sliding precariously down his nose.

"I don't think we can really be friends," Zee said honestly. "But we might as well try to get along."

"Fair enough," Will chuckled, and Zee relished the sound as an indication to his success.

"Okay," Zee said, gesturing with his hands. "Keep in mind that this has nothing to do with pity because your life sucks, but I think it would be a lot easier if we at least pretended to get along. What do you say?"

Will chewed on his bottom lip for a moment.

“Whatever you say, Zee,” he said, and grabbed his coat and coffee, leaving Zeller feeling strangely dissatisfied and almost disappointed with the way that their conversation had gone.

He swigged the rest of his coffee and took the bus home, his lips pursed as he considered everything that had happened.

~O~

It wasn't until he was in bed that night, wearing nothing but his dark green plaid boxers, musing over the meaning behind each of their exchanges, when Zeller realised how profoundly unhappy he was.

Will must have known how ridiculously hot he looked in those tight black jeans and there was absolutely no way he could have gone through life so far without anyone telling him how great he was at kissing. And, with that weird and vaguely creepy intuition Will seemed to have with both cases and reading people, there was no way that he did not know the kind of effect he had on Zeller.

Zee pushed his duvet off the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Will was doing it on purpose.

It was very obvious that Will hated Zeller, so the only reason he could have for playing this frankly immature game was to wind him up. Brian hated to admit it, but Will was definitely achieving his desired outcome.

~O~

Zeller marched into work the next day with a purpose. Not that he wasn't always a very driven detective, it was just a very specific sort of determination that Friday morning.

"What's up with you today?" Beverly asked him, grinning at her friend as he sat down and started organising his desk with speed and force.

"I need to speak to Will," he said, wiping down his computer screen with a handkerchief.

Maybe it was because of his strict, stay-at-home mother's influences, but Zeller always associated clean spaces with power and control.

"About what?" asked Jimmy, who had just swooped in to join their conversation.

Zee hesitated.

"We need to sort out some things in the evidence locker," he said vaguely.

Beverly and Jimmy exchanged a sceptical look, which he ignored in lieu of rushing over and cornering Will as he came in.

"Hey, Will, could you please come with me to the evidence locker?" he asked, trying to keep his voice low but not suspiciously low, very aware of Chilton and Gina's eavesdropping habits.

"Sure," Will said tiredly, allowing himself to be led into the cluttered, enclosed room just down the corridor.

Once inside, Zee waited for Will to remove his heavy coat, before speaking.

“I don’t know what you’re getting out of this weird and inappropriate seduction thing, but whatever reasons you have, you need to end them now.”

Will coughed incredulously.

“Um, seduction thing?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Zee said, threateningly.

“I thought we were just going to try to get along,” Will said slowly.

“Obviously, that’s not something we are able to do,” Zee replied tersely.

“We haven’t really had much opportunity,” Will said with a sardonic grin that should not have been hot but was actually really damn hot.

And then they were back to square one again.

"God!" Zee said with exasperation. "I _tried_ to get along with you. I _tried_ to apologise. I _tried_ to make things right. I have tried so hard to make it up to you for whatever it was you think that I did... Well, fuck you. How is it that you manage to be so fucking infuriating? Is this some sort of special talent of yours? Do you get off on this?"

Will stood there blankly, before taking a single step forward, still staring into space.

Then, finally,

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” and he leaned forward, took Zee’s face in both hands, and put his soft lips tenderly against Zee’s.

Somehow, the patronising nature of such a chaste kiss pissed Zeller off more than the fact that they were doing this again, despite Zee’s midnight promise to himself, so he grabbed a fistfull of Will’s shirt and lunged forward into the kiss, deepening it and eliciting a moan from Will that was positively sinful, before Will pushed back and did something very interesting with his tongue in retaliation, causing Zee to gasp and pull away, whispering,

“you are such a fucking-”

But he couldn’t even finish what he was saying, because they were at it again, and Will was grinding him up against one of the evidence cages and he was feeling too light-headed and distracted to remember where he was going with that sentence.

“You’re really, _really_ good at this,” Will murmured, when they finally pulled apart, lips even redder than usual, and Zeller discovered the incredible truth that there was nothing more satisfying than making someone who hated him compliment him.

“You too,” replied Zee, not because he thought he should, but because he believed in credit where credit was due. "But keep in mind that none of this means anything."

Will raised his eyebrows.

"I mean it! Just because you're a good kisser, it doesn't mean you're a good person."

"Of course, _Zee_."

And, for some reason or by some miracle of God, Zeller wasn't even annoyed by the response.

It was then that they heard a small scuffle from behind one of the lockers. Looking at each other with a mutual sense of alarm and a realisation of where they were, they slowly moved towards the source of the noise and peered tentatively around the locker.

Chilton and Gina were standing there, leaning against the steel locker, entangled in a mess of limbs and flyaway hair, staring back at Will and Zeller with pupils blown wide and a panicked expression.

Will rolled his eyes with an almost knowing smile, which, considering his weird perceptiveness, it probably was, before adjusting his loose and crumpled tie in a parody of professionalism.

“So… we won’t tell if you won’t tell.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come and visit us at [hotdadwillgraham.tumblr.com](hotdadwillgraham.tumblr.com) and [neurosiscocktail.tumblr.com](neurosiscocktail.tumblr.com)!!!


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